


The Whirlwind

by tinydooms



Series: We Three Together [13]
Category: The Mummy (1999), The Mummy Series
Genre: Damsel in Distress, F/M, Introspection, Kidnapping, lady scholars being resourceful, well kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:34:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25437013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinydooms/pseuds/tinydooms
Summary: What chance was there that Rick and Jonathan and the others had been able to fight their way through that? They had been cut off from escape, hemmed in on all sides. The thought of Jonathan, of Rick, being torn apart was sickening in the extreme. And worse was the memory of the look on Rick’s face as she had walked away. There had been horror in his eyes as he looked at her, horror and something very like...what?
Relationships: Evy Carnahan O'Connell/Rick O'Connell
Series: We Three Together [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1714483
Comments: 15
Kudos: 68





	The Whirlwind

**The Whirlwind**

_The Western Desert, October 1922_

The streets of Old Cairo were dark and silent; Evie’s ears rang with it after the mayhem of the Sharia al-Alzhar. The Creature--Imhotep--strode along, guided by Beni, his grip tight on Evie’s arm. She let him tow her along, moving woodenly, numb. 

_Kill them all_ , Imhotep had ordered the bewitched crowd. He had dragged her away, kicking and screaming, but not so fast that Evie hadn’t heard someone’s horrible bellowing death scream. Since then she had gone quietly, nauseated. _Dead, they’re dead._ What chance was there that Rick and Jonathan and the others had been able to fight their way through _that_? They had been cut off from escape, hemmed in on all sides. The thought of Jonathan, of Rick, being torn apart was sickening in the extreme. And worse was the memory of the look on Rick’s face as she had walked away. There had been horror in his eyes as he looked at her, horror and something very like...what? 

_Trust me,_ Evie had tried to tell him without words. _This is the only way to keep you alive._ She should have _known_ that Imhotep would double cross them. She should have _known_ not to trust an enemy’s honor. But she was not a soldier like Rick or Jonathan or Ardeth Bey, and now they were mostly likely all dead, and there had been that _look_ in Rick O’Connell’s eyes--

 _He loved me._ The thought pierced Evelyn right through the center of her chest, so sudden and so astonishing that she stumbled and would have fallen if not for Imhotep’s iron grip on her arm. The Creature snapped something at her. 

“You’re hurting me!” Evie snarled back in what she hoped was a close approximation of Ancient Egyptian. It was so _difficult_ when one had only ever read a language. 

But it must have been close to correct, because Imhotep gave her an appraising look and loosened his grip on her arm, though he did not let her go entirely. Evie gave him as imperious a look as she could muster and turned away, dismissing him as one would a servant. Imhotep did not seem to care, but hurried her along through the winding streets. Evie let her thoughts return inward. 

Rick O’Connell loved her. It was a shocking realization, and yet when Evie thought about it she was not in the least surprised. Hadn’t Rick been showing her that he loved her since Hamunaptra? Evie swallowed. He had saved her life and her expedition, had found her new clothes when her own were lost, stolen her a toolkit, he had _listened_ to her. Men so rarely listened to her. He had been _proud_ of her when she won that silly camel race, his face amused and happy and so lovely. And he had done everything in his power to keep her safe since they had raised Imhotep. All of Rick’s actions, his gestures, his small embraces, his looks, came rushing back to Evie, playing out in front of her eyes. His hand always wrapped around hers as they ran, the way his thumb had trailed along her jaw after the Medjai attack, the brief, firm hug he had given her back at the fort, the way he had almost kissed her when she tended to his scratches in the apartment, the horrified look on his face as she walked away with Imhotep just now…

 _Oh, God._ Evie felt sick. He loved her and he might be dead now, and she might never have the chance to tell him that she loved him, too. Because she _did_ love Rick O’Connell, so much so she felt desperate. She knew almost nothing about his past, his interests, but she loved everything that he had shown of himself: his kindness, his dependability, his courage, the way that one lock of hair continually fell over his eyes. She had been drawn to him from the beginning; Evie realized that now. From that moment in Giza port, Rick had subverted her every expectation of him. 

Evie pulled in a deep breath. What was it that Jonathan had told her, that Rick had been the only soldier to walk away from his final battle? And he had survived Gallipoli. And Jonathan! He too had survived: the trenches, the horror of the Somme and Pozières, the field hospital before being invalided home. They were both survivors. 

Well, then. She would just have to believe that they were all right, that somehow, someway, they had survived the frenzied crowd. Her mother had always said that hope was the greatest weapon. And so, against all odds, Evie let hope creep back into her heart. All she had to do was stay alive long enough for them to reach her. 

On the outskirts of Cairo, close to the bridge over to Giza, Beni stole a car. He bowed Imhotep into it, telling him in Hebrew to “take the place of honor” in the backseat. Evie found herself sitting in the front seat beside Beni, driving past Giza and into the desert, taking the roads that led out to the oases. None of them spoke. The night was at its darkest point, the stars an endless vault overhead. Evie sat with her hands folded in her lap, resisting the urge to wring them. She was _not_ going to show these men how frightened she was. Still, she must have made some noise, because Beni looked over at her. 

“O’Connell always had more heart than sense,” he said, more to himself than to Evie. 

“He has more honor than you could ever have,” Evie replied. 

Beni scoffed. “He had to die sometime. We used to call him _Ricochet_ for the way the bullets just seemed to bounce off him. But he was never going to survive by choosing _you_.”

“Is survival more important to you than human kindness?”

Beni looked sideways at her again. “Yes.”

There was nothing one could say to that. 

They drove on through the interminable darkness, as far as they could go on roads that increasingly deteriorated. Finally, as they juttered over a path that was more pothole than packed dirt, Imhotep called for Beni to stop the car. 

Dawn was turning the edge of the horizon a pale orange red as they climbed out of the car and stood in the sand. The desert air was still cold; Evie shivered, wrapping her cardigan more tightly around herself. Imhotep took her arm and led her across the sand--a shame, Evie thought; she bet she could have knocked down Beni and knicked the car keys from him. Imhotep seemed to be getting his bearings; he stood looking out over the desert, turning this way and that. Finally, he smiled to himself. Taking Beni’s arm in his other hand, he turned on the spot and--

Sand kicked up around Evie, whipping her skirts and hair, scouring her face. She scrunched her eyes and mouth closed, trying to breathe without inhaling sand into her lungs. Her feet seemed to leave the ground; she was swirling out of control, Imhotep’s grip on her arm the only thing keeping her from flying off into nothing. Roaring filled her ears.

An eternity seemed to pass, of sand and wind and noise and the weightless terror of being swirled around and around and around. As a child, Evie had accompanied her parents to beach resorts and swum in the ocean, rough-housing with Jonathan and trying to ride the waves like the Polynesian surfers whose pictures she had seen in newspapers. Sometimes the waves had closed over her head and sent her tumbling along the ocean floor, a frightening weight and force that seemed to say _I could kill you, little girl, but I won’t today_ before it tossed her up, gasping for breath, on shore. This was exactly like that, only hot and dry and made from dark magic, not nature. 

And then Imhotep let go. Evie flew through the air, screaming, to land with a bone-jarring thunk on hot sand. Beni fell hard on top of her. 

“Get off me!” roared Evie, striking at him, scrambling away. It felt good to hit him. “ _Get off me!_ ”

Beni groaned, rolling away. “I need a new job.”

Evie snarled, rolling a ways downhill, shaking sand out of her hair. So much for her neat plait; her hair stood on end, thick with grit. As the whirlwind resolved itself into Imhotep Evie bent low and spat. He strode down the hill, ignoring them completely. 

_Bastard,_ Evie thought, stumbling to her feet. She watched him stride away down the slope, not stumbling in the slightest, and felt a twinge of disbelief: beyond the Creature, across the wide salt flat that she had so joyously raced across on camelback, was Hamunaptra. 

“Oh my God,” Evie whispered, her heart sinking to her toes. 

They were back already: how was that possible? Had Imhotep’s whirlwind really moved them that far that fast? Evie had anticipated days in which to stall for help, not hours. Oh, God. She stood there, paralyzed, with everything she had ever learned about Ancient Egyptian ritual flashing through her mind. Under it all ran an infuriating refrain: _doomed, you’re doomed, you’re doomed_ \--

Suddenly from overhead came the distinct drone of a whirring engine. They all looked up into the clear blue sky, where a yellow biplane curved towards them. A figure in the gunner’s seat raised both hands over its head in salute. Evie felt her whole self breaking into a smile. 

“O’Connell,” she whispered, and laughed, hopping up and down. 

Beni began to mutter in Hungarian, no doubt dire epithets; Imhotep, too, looked furious. He raised his hands and a blast of wind jolted Evie, whipping past her to sweep sand once again into the air. A wall of whirling gold rose up from the desert floor, rushing after the plane. The pilot struggled to fly faster, but the wave engulfed the plane. Evie screeched. 

“Stop it! You’ll kill them!” 

“That’s the idea,” Beni replied, not taking his eyes off of the scene unfolding above Hamunaptra. 

_Stop him, stop him._ Evie ran forward, shoving Beni out of the way, and slid to a stop before Imhotep. He stood with his eyes closed, absolutely still, his hands raised to direct the sandstorm. Should she hit him? No, that would only make him angry. Evie raised her hands and chose the only alternative she could think of. She grabbed the Creature’s face and kissed him. 

Startled, Imhotep did not kiss her back, but did not stop her either. Evie didn’t let go of him. Over his shoulder she could see the sand wall collapsing, the biplane shooting out of it, juddering but still airborne. Instantly Evie let go of Imhotep’s face with a whoop. Yet even as she hooted in triumph, the biplane seemed to burst into flame, and in another moment it disappeared behind the dunes. A great plume of sand burst forth, and then nothing. 

For a moment they all stood silently, staring at the place the biplane had been. Imhotep smirked and walked away towards Hamunaptra, leaving Evie and Beni no choice but to follow. 

As they walked across the salt flat, Evie kept her eyes on the dunes, but there was no sign of Rick or Jonathan or anyone. She swallowed against her fear and panic. Were they alive? Had she stopped Imhotep too late to save them? _No, no, please God, no, let them be alive, let them be alright._

Hamunaptra was as they had left it a week ago, empty but for ruined pillars and a couple of milling camels. Where on earth had those come from? Evie wondered. One didn’t just leave expensive livestock out in the desert. Perhaps if she could get away from Imhotep and Beni, she could ride one to freedom. Perhaps some of Ardeth Bey’s Medjai warriors were camped nearby. Perhaps--

“Don’t even think about it,” Beni said, following her gaze, and jabbed Evie in the side. “You saw what he did to O’Connell.”

Evie turned and stared at him, eyes narrowed. “You know, nasty little fellows such as yourself always get their comeuppance.”

Beni sneered at her, but there was a flash of something in his eye. Worry? “They do?”

“Yes. Always,” Evie said, and lifting her chin, walked into the crypt behind Imhotep. 

Author's Note: Here this is, finally! I don't know why it took me so long to write this; it just didn't want to be written. I hope you like it! Please leave me a comment and let me know what you think! Also, if you'd like to ask me something about the series or leave me a prompt, [please feel free to pop over to my Tumblr!](https://tinydooms.tumblr.com/ask). :-)


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